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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29644812">His Saccharine Sins</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sedona_Eats_Ortolans/pseuds/Sedona_Eats_Ortolans'>Sedona_Eats_Ortolans</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, M/M, Post S3, Post TWOTL, hannigram angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:46:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29644812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sedona_Eats_Ortolans/pseuds/Sedona_Eats_Ortolans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Will have finally defeated the Great Red Dragon. All that’s left is to patch each other up and start their new life together, knowing they love each other more than life itself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, hannigram</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>His Saccharine Sins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The fight with the Dragon was over. All that was left in the wake of Will’s becoming was the moon, the blood, and Hannibal. He clung to him for moments suspended in time, breathing nothing but pain and undiluted triumph. This is what it means to be alive; this is what it means to be loved. </p>
<p>Will pulled back enough to look at Hannibal (his eyes were wide and begging and beautiful) but not enough to pry himself from his grasp (how could he?). </p>
<p>“You look like shit.” *You look beautiful.* “Come on.” He started to pull the both of them towards the general direction of the house.</p>
<p>He paused their unsteady paces as they nearly passed the Dragon; he could feel Hannibal’s eyes, as if they had their own blazing trail, moving from him to the corpse. Their first communal artwork.</p>
<p>“What will they think when they find him here?” Will asked. He didn’t know who he was asking really- who would have any kind of answer to it.</p>
<p>“They’ll think you are the farthest from fragile.” Hannibal said. His voice was hardly a whisper, but still the pain broke through his every syllable. He sounded like he was praying. What form would their divine intervention come as?</p>
<p>Will pulled them along, his breaths coming out jagged and punctuated with little prods and pricks of pain all along his body. He wondered if he had ever been closer to death than he was now. He had never been closer to Hannibal- and maybe that was close enough.</p>
<p>“Medical supplies in the upper cabinet to the right.” Hannibal spoke up, nodding towards the path to the kitchen as they stepped through the shattered opening to the house. The shards of glass scattered along the floor shined like little mirrors. Will looked away from them, carefully lowering Hannibal onto the nearest couch (no doubt worth thousands of dollars just to get covered in blood.</p>
<p>“Don’t move.” Will said- rather lamely on reflection- before tearing himself away from Hannibal (and ignoring that look in his eyes that threatened to break him) and limping towards the kitchen. Once Hannibal was out of earshot, the aggressive cursing under his breath began, growing in vehemence as he wrangled the medic bag from one of the top cabinets. Dizzy spots exploded across his vision- the thought of collapsing and dying right there was so ridiculous he almost started laughing. </p>
<p>No, he wouldn’t die a fool tonight.</p>
<p>He carried the supplies back to the couch, promptly (and ungracefully) collapsing beside Hannibal. He had a brief thought of gratitude for the absolute absurd size of rich people’s sofas. </p>
<p>“Tell me what to do.” Will said as Hannibal pushed himself to sitting upright, failing to suppress a wince of pain.</p>
<p>“I’m patching you up first.” He insisted, reaching for the bag. Will rolled his eyes, pulling the bag out of his reach.</p>
<p>“Shut up, there’s a hole in your stomach. Tell me what to do.” He ignored Hannibal’s sigh of defeat, turning to rifle through the contents of the bag in search for the items Hannibal listed. Water. Cleansing wipes. Sterile dressings. Bandages. Hannibal pulled up his shirt enough to reveal the wound- a spark of foreign but incendiary anger kindled in Will’s mind at the thought that the Dragon could somehow harm Hannibal in the way only he deserved to. He started to clean the entrance and exit wounds as Hannibal instructed him to; every groan and breath of pain from Hannibal’s lips felt like something inflicted directly to Will. They really were conjoined- there wasn’t a single thing Will wanted Hannibal to feel and feel alone. </p>
<p>When he glanced up Hannibal’s eyes were on him, but they were distant. He was off somewhere, in his memory palace or mind, it didn’t matter. Will couldn’t do this without him here. </p>
<p>“Hey.” His hand brushed against the side of Hannibal’s face before undecidedly pulling back. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” The weak smile Hannibal gave him was worth every bit of pain aching through Will’s bones, begging for him to sink into a silent sleep. Every word Will spoke sent pain racing through his cheek- it was everywhere, Hannibal must have felt it too. He was burning alive in it. </p>
<p>“I was recalling our fight with the Dragon. What sweet irony; we were intended to be his becoming but instead he became ours.” Hannibal’s hand twisted in the fabric of Will’s shirt- it was the only indication he was in any pain at all, beside the slight flex of his jaw and the labored way with which he formed words. </p>
<p>“Not irony. Poetry.” Will finished the bandages, looking up at Hannibal for a small nod of approval. </p>
<p>“Your turn.” Hannibal said, lowering his shirt and turning to face Will. For some reason, he had all the necessary materials for sutures in one emergency med bag (of course he did), and extracted a spool of nylon surgical thread, scissors, and a curved needle. Will wondered if he should be feeling anxiety, or fear- but how could he? It was just another time his life was in Hannibal’s hands, another time he was at the end of a blade, and getting sliced apart was akin to a kiss.</p>
<p>Hannibal readied the needle, his other hand cradling the side of Will’s face (to hold him steady, sure. There must have been no other reasoning).</p>
<p>“Talk to me.” Will mumbled, careful not to move his jaw. Hannibal didn’t meet his gaze as he set to work- after the initial screaming pain of the needle piercing skin, Will’s hand instinctively gripped the collar of Hannibal’s shirt with a death grip, clinging to him like he could turn to smoke any moment. </p>
<p>“I doubted if I would ever see you. If I would ever touch you again.” Hannibal said steadily, eyes trained on the patch of skin he was working on. Will wondered if he was imagining he was someone else- a banana, or a random E.R. patient- something completely irrelevant he was just practicing stitches on. He wondered if Hannibal got nervous, if his pulse was as elevated as his own was. </p>
<p>“I waited. Every day took me closer to you.” Hannibal continued, his thumb brushing small circles against Will’s uninjured cheek. “Even as every choice took you farther away.” </p>
<p>It was in moments like these Will couldn’t imagine thinking of Hannibal as some unfeeling sadist. He could feel the emotion rolling off of him like waves of the same ocean pummeling against the bluff. He felt every degree of love like a knife in his past.</p>
<p>“Tell me more.” He whispered. Hannibal still hadn’t looked at him. The pain of the needle felt unidentifiable from the pain that was loving Hannibal all his life. </p>
<p>“Every day, and your face was fresh in my mind.” He tied off the end of the stitches and cut the thread. Will reached up, holding Hannibal’s hand to his face before he could pull away. Hannibal finally looked at him- looked into him- dark eyes clashing against his blue. “Every day,” Hannibal’s voice had lowered to something like a hushed whisper, “And I could never stop loving you.” </p>
<p>“Hannibal.” Hannibal opened his mouth to say something, but Will was already leaning in, one of his hands at the base of Hannibal’s neck and the other on the side of his face. Without thinking, and thinking more than he ever had before, Will kissed him, and it was something slow and beautiful and vaguely bloody; he had imagined it would be something like this. When he finally (and all too soon) pulled away they were both breathless. It was the first time Will had rendered Hannibal speechless.</p>
<p>“Let me finish.” Hannibal eventually said, reaching to unbutton the first few buttons of Will’s shirt and assess the wound underneath. Before he could stop himself, or pause to reason, Will placed his hand on top of Hannibal’s, pausing him for the moment it took for Will to find his voice. It was a confession for the a sin he could not want forgiven. </p>
<p>“I love you. I have for a long time. I can’t shake you.” He smiled, because the words were bitter but left a saccharine taste in his mouth. He wanted to devour all that Hannibal was. He wanted to become what Hannibal believed in. He moved his hand from Hannibal’s then, and was content sitting through the rest of their time on that couch in silence.</p>
<p>Soon enough, the both of them were bandaged up enough that they might not bleed out on the spot. Hannibal had said there was a car in the garage. This was it. They were together, and they were escaping. They could have their perfect ending; for once, there was nothing in their way. No forgivenesses lost or grievances to be paid. Will knew looking at Hannibal now that he would never let anyone take him away. Not Jack, not the FBI, not even a god that collapsed chapel ceilings. Everything they had ever done had brought them here, to this moment, when they were nothing more than two men in love, destined to repeat the same story over and over again. The same love crime. </p>
<p>The two of them, leaning on each other for support, limped from the couch and towards the kitchen.</p>
<p>Will looked at Hannibal.</p>
<p>They were halfway through the kitchen now, passing by perfectly cleaned marble counters and meticulously arranged cooking tools. </p>
<p>Hannibal looked at Will.</p>
<p>Will stepped to the side, grabbing one of the neatly slotted away kitchen knives in his hand. He turned in the same breath and drove the knife through Hannibal. </p>
<p>A sharp intake of breath. That was all. The horrible sound of a surprised gasp, and the feeling of blood on Will’s hands. After all this time, he had surprised him. Will pulled the knife back and let it fall to the floor. He was looking at Hannibal’s eyes the entire time.</p>
<p>There was a moment of silence, the moment when they just looked at each other, Hannibal’s hands clinging to Will just to stay upright and tears beading in his eyes. He was sobbing. It was quiet. </p>
<p>The moment passed. Hannibal collapsed to the floor with a thud, and Will sunk to his knees beside him.</p>
<p>“Will- Will-“ Hannibal gasped out, one hand pressed to the wound. They both know he didn’t stand a chance.</p>
<p>“Hannibal. It’s okay, I’m here.” Will reached out, pulling Hannibal against him. “It’s okay. Let it go.” Hannibal didn’t struggle in his embrace. How can you fight love? How can you fight the one thing in your life you know to be true? There was no way. There was only the blood. The blood and Will. </p>
<p>“You are divine.” Hannibal whispered on shaky breaths. Blood trailed out of the corner of his mouth. Will moved him from his arms, letting him lean back slumped against the cabinets. He was focused on Hannibal- focused on wiping his tears away with his thumb, focused on telling him “I love you, I love you”. Focused on his eyes, his breaths, his beautiful eyes. Anything but his hand, wandering for the fallen knife. Focused on his adoration, and not the truth- that kitchen floors were made for sacrificial blood, and by the end of it all there were always two bodies of a broken family lying there. </p>
<p>He blinked, and Hannibal was holding the knife. With his last bit of energy he drove it through Will until the hilt was pressed to his chest.</p>
<p>Blood was everywhere when Hannibal pulled it out.</p>
<p>There was a soft hum of peace in Will’s mind, somewhere deep and hidden where only Hannibal could go. </p>
<p>Will let out a little cry of pain, but it wasn’t of betrayal. He dragged himself across the kitchen floor into Hannibal’s open arms, his hands digging into the bloodstained fabric of his shirt and pressing his forehead into Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal’s hand twisted through his hair, not painful but grounding. </p>
<p>If understanding is the cornerstone of love, this was their greatest moment of intimacy. </p>
<p>“Where you go,” Hannibal whispered, the kind of whisper that holds a person’s last breath, “I will always go with, Mylimasis.”</p>
<p>Will closed his eyes, feeling the hand in his hair fall limp. He closed his eyes and buried his head into Hannibal’s chest, and waded into the quietness waiting beyond.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi!! i hope you enjoyed! any comments are appreciated and pls have an amazing day &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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